Trinity  Coliege  Library 

Durham,  N.  C. 


Rer'd  OaX,  C 

ivuiL.S,  1H2U 

R £ V 

jp^JL  T ULyvxrV 

i 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/devotionalsongso01nova 


NOVALIS. 


The  Devotional  Songs 
of  Novalis 


German  and  English 


Collected  and  Edited  by 

Bernhard  Pick 

c 


Chicago 

The  Open  Court  Publishing  Company 
London  Agents 

Kegan  Paul,  Trench,  Triibner  & Co. 
1910 


Copyright  by 

The  Open  Court  Publishing  Co. 
1910 


- 233.43 

H Z5W? 

CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Publishers’  Preface v 

Introduction 1 

The  Redeemer. 

Was  war’  ich  ohne  dich  gewesen?  . . 19 
God  Within  Us. 

Fern  im  Osten  wird  es  helle  ....  33 
The  Son  of  Man. 

Ich  weiss  nicht,  was  ich  suchen  konnte  41 
The  Comforter. 

Wenn  in  bangen  triiben  Stunden  ...  49 
Consolation. 

Wer  einsam  sitzt  in  seiner  Kammer  . . 53 
Refuge. 

Es  giebt  so  bange  Zeiten 59 

The  Hour  of  Bliss. 

Unter  tausend  frohen  Stunden  ....  65 
Holy  Sorrow. 

Weinen  muss  ich,  immer  weinen  ...  71 
Eastertide. 

Ich  sag’  es  jedem,  dass  er  lebt  ...  77 
All  in  All. 

Wenn  ich  ihn  nur  habe 85 

Faithful  Unto  Death. 

Wenn  alle  untreu  werden 93 

Epiphany. 

Wo  bleibst  du,  Trost  der  ganzen  Welt?  101 
The  Eucharist. 

Hymne 


109 


PUBLISHERS’  PREFACE. 


AT  the  present  time  much  attention  is  shown 
to  the  psychology  of  religion.  The  emotions 
of  the  soul  are  studied  by  means  of  question- 
naires and  laboratory  methods.  The  lives  of 
saints  have  been  analyzed  and  their  pathology 
set  forth.  Science  seems  to  have  superseded 
religion.  On  the  other  hand  mysticism  has  by 
no  means  died  out,  but  on  the  contrary  has 
come  again  into  the  foreground  in  several 
forms,  the  common  basis  of  which  is  that  sen- 
timent has  the  right  to  assert  itself  and  need 
not  submit  to  the  cold  voice  of  reason. 

Mysticism  played  a great  part  in  the  history 
of  former  centuries.  It  actually  assumed  the 
authority  of  a direct  religious  revelation  and 
not  infrequently  succeeded  in  dethroning  rea- 
son and  insisted  on  scorning  science.  Mysti- 
cism dominated  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  it  will 
perhaps  forever  remain  a power  in  the  psy- 
chology of  multitudes.  It  has  exercised  an 
enormous  influence  over  the  minds  of  those 
men  whose  tendency  it  is  to  live  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  sentiment  and  who  are  disinclined  to 
have  the  light  of  scientific  inquiry  thrown  on 
the  innermost  impulses  of  their  souls.  They 


resent  a critical  analysis  of  their  own  beliefs 
or  of  anything  that  has  become  sacred  to  them. 

Many  men  of  this  type  are  noble  characters, 
and  in  former  centuries  they  became  leaders 
of  great  historic  movements.  They  held  na- 
tions spellbound  by  the  enthusiasm  of  religious 
emotion.  They  made  the  people  undergo  most 
unnatural  penances  and  submit  patiently  to 
the  rule  of  priestcraft,  and  they  stirred  the 
world  to  adventurous  crusades. 

When  we  consider  the  aberrations  of  mysti- 
cism, such  as  the  practices  of  the  flagellants, 
the  Echtemach  “dancing  procession,”  and  the 
Children’s  Crusade,  we  must  grant  that  mys- 
ticism is  dangerous.  It  is  a power  more  ex- 
plosive than  dynamite,  and  this  is  one  reason 
why  it  has  been  so  vigorously  denounced  by 
iis  critics  and  antagonists.  But  we  wish  to 
call  attention  to  the  many  great  results  pro- 
duced in  innumerable  homes  among  the  Mo- 
ravians and  other  pious  people  and  also  in  the 
religious  energy  of  reform  movements  that 
from  time  to  time  have  stirred  the  world  since 
the  beginning  of  human  civilization,  during  the 
time  of  pre-Christian  paganism  and  most  ob- 
viously so  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  All 
in  all  mysticism  is  a power  that  can  work 
wonders  for  evil  or  for  good. 

Mysticism,  like  emotionalism,  has  its  good 
right  to  exist.  Man  is  an  emotional  animal, 
and  the  multitudes  will  always  be  under  the 
sway  of  sentiment.  The  fault  of  mysticism 


appears  only  when  it  rebels  against  reason  and 
sets  aside  rational  critique.  If  mysticism  un- 
dertakes to  settle  questions  which  belong  to 
the  domain  of  science,  it  is  apt  to  favor  super- 
stition and  may  easily  become  a menace  to 
civilization. 

There  is  a middle  ground  in  judging  mysti- 
cism. We  may  very  well  appreciate  its  noble 
qualities  without  accepting  its  extravagant 
claims.  We  need  not  give  ear  to  the  mystic’s 
denunciations  of  the  intellect,  nor  assign  to 
sentiment  the  ultimate  control  of  human  af- 
fairs. We  may  appreciate  mysticism  subject 
to  critique  and  allow  it  a place  within  the  do- 
main of  sentiment. 

In  order  to  gain  the  right  attitude  toward 
mysticism,  we  should  study  it  in  the  minds  of 
its  noblest  representatives,  and  there  we  shall 
learn  to  respect  its  significance.  There  is  as 
little  justification  in  rejecting  or  condemning 
mysticism  as  in  yielding  to  it  unreservedly. 
But  we  must  guide  its  emotions  in  the  right 
channels  and  select  those  of  its  manifestations 
which  are  pure  and  wholesome.  They  have 
been  of  great  assistance  to  mankind  in  the 
past,  and  there  is  scarcely  any  doubt  that  they 
will  be  helpful  also  in  the  future,  and  the  most 
precious  of  mystic  emotions  is  that  attitude 
of  the  soul  which  in  one  word  is  commonly 
called  devotion. 

Friedrich  von  Hardenberg,  who  called  him- 
self Novalis,  is  a most  conspicuous  example  of 


vii 


emotional  mysticism,  and  it  is  only  to  be  re- 
gretted that  his  poetry  is  but  little  known  in 
English  speaking  countries.  His  songs  and 
hymns  are  not  only  well  worth  reading  for  the 
sake  of  mere  literary  enjoyment,  but  they 
also  contain  much  material  for  the  student  of 
the  psychology  of  religion. 

The  charm  of  his  songs  consists  in  a warmth 
of  feeling  unrivalled  in  any  other  poetry,  either 
secular  or  religious.  What  fervor,  what  devo- 
tion, what  depth  of  love  is  expressed  in  these 
two  lines: 

“Wenn  ich  ihn  nur  habe, 

Wenn  er  mein  nur  ist!” 

Whoever  has  read  them  once  can  never  for- 
get them.  They  reveal  a disposition  of  heart 
which  is  best  described  by  the  untranslatable 
German  word  “innig,”  which  characterizes  a 
free  surrender  of  the  inmost  soul. 

PAUL  CARUS. 


Till 


INTRODUCTION. 


I 


INTRODUCTION. 

■pRIEDRICH  von  Hardenberg,  better 
known  by  the  name  of  Novalis,  was 
born  at  Wiederstedt  in  Mansfeld  territory, 
near  Eisleben,  May  2, 1772.  His  father,  who 
had  been  a soldier  in  his  youth,  and  still 
retained  a liking  for  that  profession,  was 
at  this  time  director  of  the  Saxon  Salt- 
works at  Weissenfels.  Tieck  says,  “He 
was  a vigorous,  unweariedly  active  man, 
of  open,  resolute  character,  a true  Ger- 
man. His  religious  feelings  made  him  a 
member  of  the  Herrnhut  Communion,  yet 
his  disposition  continued  gay,  frank,  rug- 
ged and  uncompromising.”  The  mother 
also  was  distinguished  for  her  worth;  “a 
model  of  noble  piety  and  Christian  mild- 
ness,” virtues  which  her  subsequent  life 
gave  ample  opportunity  for  exercising. 
Friedrich,  her  second  child  and  first  son, 
was  very  delicate  in  childhood;  he  was 
of  a dreamy  disposition  and  betrayed 
little  spirit,  and  only  the  enthusiastic  af- 


3 


fection  with  which  he  loved  his  mother, 
distinguished  him  beyond  his  apparently 
more  gifted  brothers  and  sisters.  In  con- 
sequence of  a violent  bilious  disease  which 
befell  him  in  his  ninth  year,  his  faculties 
seemed  to  awaken  into  proper  life,  and  he 
became  the  readiest  and  most  eager 
learner  in  all  branches  of  his  studies.  In 
his  eighteenth  year,  after  a few  months 
of  preparation  in  the  gymnasium  at  Eis- 
leben,  he  repaired  to  Jena  in  1790.  Here 
he  continued  for  three  years,  after  which 
he  spent  one  season  in  the  Leipsic  Uni- 
versity, and  another  at  Wittenberg.  At 
Jena  he  studied  philosophy  under  Rein- 
hold, Fichte,  and  Schelling,  who  exerted 
a lasting  influence  upon  his  mind.  At 
Leipsic  he  became  intimately  connected 
with  Friedrich  Schlegel,  one  of  the  main 
leaders  of  the  so-called  Romantic  school, 
while  at  Wittenberg,  influenced  by  Fried- 
rich von  Schiller,  who  showed  him  the 
ideal  side  of  practical  activity,  he  studied 
chemistry,  mathematics,  history  and  juris- 
prudence, but  especially  Church  history. 

But  the  time  had  now  arrived  when 
study  must  become  subordinate  to  action, 


and  what  is  called  a profession  had  to  be 
determined  upon.  At  the  breaking  out 
of  the  French  Revolution,  Novalis  had 
been  seized  with  a strong  and  altogether 
unexpected  taste  for  military  life;  how- 
ever, the  entreaties  of  his  relatives  ulti- 
mately prevailed,  and  it  was  settled  that 
he  should  follow  his  father’s  line  of  occu- 
pation. In  1794  he  gave  up  his  studies 
at  Wittenberg,  and  went  to  Tennstedt  in 
Thuringia  “to  train  himself  in  practical 
affairs  under  the  Kreisamtmann  Just.” 

Soon  after  his  arrival  at  Tennstedt  No- 
valis met  Sophie  von  Kuehn  in  a country 
mansion  of  the  neighborhood.  She  was 
then  13  years  of  age,  but  the  first  glimpse 
of  her  fair  and  wonderfully  lovely  form 
was  decisive  for  his  whole  life. 

Tieck  speaks  of  her  in  the  following 
manner : 

“All  persons  that  have  known  this  won- 
drous loved  one  of  our  friend,  agree  in 
testifying  that  no  description  can  express 
in  what  grace  and  celestial  harmony  this 
fair  being  moved,  what  beauty  shone  in 
her,  what  gentleness  and  majesty  encir- 
cled her.” 


s 


The  same  author  says: 

“The  spring  and  summer  of  1795  were 
the  blooming  time  of  Hardenb erg’s  life ; 
every  hour  that  he  could  spare  from  busi- 
ness he  spent  in  Griiningen;  and  in  the 
fall  of  that  same  year  he  obtained  the  de- 
sired consent  of  Sophie’s  parents.” 
Unhappily,  however,  these  halcyon  days 
were  of  too  short  continuance.  Sophie 
fell  dangerously  sick,  and  the  19th  of 
March,  1797,  two  days  after  her  fifteenth 
birthday,  she  passed  away.  The  death 
of  his  beloved  became  to  Novalis  the 
turning-point  of  his  inner  life.  It  re- 
minded him  that  he  also  was  no  longer 
a citizen  of  this  world,  but  of  the  other. 
To  this  period  belong  his  “Hymnen  an 
die  Nacht,”  or  “Hymns  to  the  Night,” 
consisting  of  five  prose  poems  interspersed 
with  verse,  and  a sixth  entirely  in  verse. 
In  these  he  wrote  “of  the  vague  longings 
or  aspirations  of  the  soul  as  higher  and 
truer  than  all  science  and  philosophy.” 
With  reference  to  the  “Hymns”  Car- 
lyle says  of  Novalis:  “Naturally  a deep, 
religious,  contemplative  spirit,  purified 
also,  as  we  have  seen,  by  harsh  affliction, 


6 


and  familiar  in  the  ‘sanctuary  of  sorrow,’ 
he  comes  before  us  as  the  most  ideal  of  all 
idealists.” 

Sophie  von  Hardenberg,  the  accom- 
plished authoress  of  “Friedrich  von  Har- 
denberg, genannt  Novalis,  eine  Nachlese 
aus  den  Quellen  des  Familienarchivs” 
(2d  ed.,  Gotha,  1883),  says:  “Why  do  the 
‘Hymns  to  the  Night’  so  peculiarly  lay 
hold  of  the  soul  of  the  reader?  It  is  be- 
cause they  show  the  transformation  of  the 
poet  into  a Christian.  In  these  Hymns 
his  deepest  sorrow  appears  transfigured 
by  a more  than  earthly  splendor.”  And 
Haym,  who  has  given  an  outline  of  the 
Life  of  Novalis  in  his  important  work  on 
the  Romantic  School,  says : “The  ‘Hymns 
to  Night,’  those  r-profoundly  sorrowful 
strains  of  rapturous  lamentation  and  of 
fervent  pain,  can  be  compared  with  noth- 
ing that  our  classical  poetry  has  pro- 
duced.” 

These  “Hymns  to  the  Night”  were  writ- 
ten soon  after  the  death  of  his  sweet- 
heart, in  that  period  of  deep  sorrow,  or 
rather  of  holy  deliverance  from  sorrow, 
and  Novalis  himself  regarded  them  as  his 


7 


most  finished  productions.  They  are  of 
a strange,  veiled,  almost  enigmatical  char- 
acter; nevertheless,  on  closer  examina- 
tion, they  appear  to  be  in  no  wise  lacking 
true  poetic  worth.  There  is  a vastness, 
an  immensity  of  idea;  a still  solemnity 
reigns  in  them,  a solitude  almost  as  of 
extinct  worlds.  Here  and  there  too  some 
ray  of  light  visits  us  in  the  deep  void; 
and  we  cast  a glance,  clear  and  wondrous, 
into  the  secrets  of  that  mysterious  soul. 
A full  commentary  on  the  “Hymns  to  the 
Night”  would  be  an  exposition  of  Nova- 
lis’s  whole  theological  and  moral  creed ; 
for  it  lies  recorded  there,  though  sym- 
bolically, and  in  lyric,  not  in  didactic  lan- 
guage. 

“Once  when  I was  shedding  bitter 
tears,”  these  are  the  ■words  of  the  third 
hymn,  “when  dissolved  in  pain  my  hope 
had  melted  quite  away,  and  I stood  soli- 
tary by  the  sun-parched  mound  that  in 
its  dark  and  narrow  space  concealed  the 
form  of  my  life ; solitary  as  none  other 
had  ever  been;  pursued  by  unutterable 
anguish ; powerless ; with  but  one  thought, 
and  that  of  misery;  when  looking  around 


s 


for  help,  forward  I could  not  go,  nor  back- 
ward, but  clung  to  a transient  extin- 
guished life  with  unutterable  longing; — 
lo,  from  the  azure  distance,  down  from 
the  heights  of  my  former  blessedness, 
came  a chill  breath  of  dusk,  and  suddenly 
the  bond  of  birth,  the  fetter  of  life  was 
snapped  asunder.  Vanished  the  glory  of 
earth  and  with  it  my  lamenting;  my  in- 
finite sadness  melted  into  a new  unfath- 
omable world;  thou  Inspiration  of  Night, 
Heaven’s  own  Slumber,  earnest  over  me; 
the  scene  rose  gently  aloft;  above  it  hov- 
ered my  enfranchized  new-born  spirit. 
Into  a cloud  of  dust  had  changed  that 
grave;  through  the  cloud  I beheld  the 
transfigured  features  of  my  beloved  one. 
In  her  eyes  lay  eternity;  I clasped  her 
hand,  and  my  tears  flowed  in  a glittering 
stream.  Millenniums  passed  into  the  dis- 
tance, like  thunder-clouds.  On  her  neck 
I wept  tears  of  rapture  for  this  new  life. 
— It  was  my  first,  mine  only  dream,  and 
only  since  that  time  have  I felt  an  ever- 
lasting changeless  faith  in  the  heaven  of 
night,  and  in  its  sun,  my  beloved.” 

The  sixth  hymn,  entitled  “Sehnsucht 


9 


nach  dem  Tode”  (i.  e.,  “Longing  for 
Death”),  begins: 

“Hinunter  in  der  Erde  Schooss.” 

It  has  been  translated  by  Helen  Lowe  in 
her  “Prophecy  of  Balaam”  (1841)  and 
reproduced  in  the  “Lyra  Mystica”  (1864). 
With  some  alterations  it  reads  thus: 

“Into  earth’s  bosom  let  me  go, 

Far  from  light’s  realms  descending! 

These  stinging  pains  and  this  wild  woe 
Portend  a blissful  ending. 

The  narrow  bark  shall  waft  us  o’er, 

Full  soon  to  land  on  Heaven’s  calm  shore. 

“Praised  be  that  everlasting  night; 

Praised,  never-broken  slumber; 

Day  with  its  toils  hath  worn  us  quite, 

And  cares  too  long  encumber; 

Now  vain  desires  and  roamings  cease. 

We  seek  our  Father’s  House  in  peace. 

“What  should  we  do  in  this  cold  world 
With  Love  and  Truth  so  tender? 

Old  things  are  in  oblivion  hurled, 

The  new  no  gladness  render: 

O sorrowful  his  heart  and  lone 

Who  reverent  loves  the  past  and  gone! 

“Those  ages  past,  whose  purer  race, 

High  thoughts  with  ardor  fired, 


When  man  beheld  our  Father’s  Face, 

And  knew  His  Hand  desired; 

While  many  a simple  mind  sincere 
Resembled  still  His  image  clear. 

“Those  days  of  old,  when  spreading  wide 
Ancestral  trees  were  growing; 

When  even  children  joyful  died, 

Their  deep  devotion  showing; 

While  though  life  laughed  and  pleasure . . 
spake, 

Yet  many  a heart  for  strong  Love  brake. 

“Those  times  of  yore  when  God  revealed 
Himself  in  young  life  glowing; 

With  early  death  His  Passion  sealed, 

His  precious  Blood  bestowing; 

Nor  turned  aside  the  stings  of  pain 
Us  nearer  to  Himself  to  gain. 

“Through  deepening  mists  how  vainly  gaze 
Our  fond  thoughts,  backward  turning; 
Nought  in  this  dreary  age  allays 
The  thirst  within  us  burning; 

We  must  arrive  our  home  within 
That  ancient  Holiness  to  win. 

“What  still  delays  our  wished  return? 

The  Loved  have  long  been  sleeping; 

Their  graves  our  earthly  journey’s  bourne— 
Enough  of  fear  and  weeping! 

With  fruitless  striving  long  annoyed 
The  heart  is  weary,  the  world  a void. 


“Strange  rapture  ever  new,  unknown, 
Through  the  faint  frame  is  thrilling; 

Hark!  the  soft  echo  of  our  moan 
The  hollow  distance  filling; 

Whence  toward  us  our  loved  ones  bend, 
Their  breathings  of  desire  ascend. 

“Down  to  the  loved  bride  we  go, 

To  Jesus  gone  before  us; 

Be  of  good  comfort,  mourners;  lo! 

Grey  twilight  deepens  o’er  us; 

A dream  dissolves  our  chains  unblest, 

Our  Father,  take  us  to  His  Rest.” 

A few  months  after  writing  his  “Hymns 
to  the  Night,”  Novalis  was  cured  of  his 
morbid  desire  for  death,  and  in  the  au- 
tumn of  1797  he  went  to  Freiberg  to  enter 
the  academy  of  mining,  which  flourished 
under  the  famous  Werner,  whom  Novalis 
describes  in  his  “Lehrlinge  zu  Sais”  (“Stu- 
dents atSais”),  an  unfinished  philosophical 
romance.  To  this  Freiberg  period  belong 
also  his  “Fragments,”  known  as  “Bliithen- 
staub”  (i.  e.,  “Pollen  of  Flowers”)  ; “Glau- 
ben  und  Liebe”  (“Faith  and  Love”),  to- 
gether with  some  minor  poetical  pieces, 
which  he  called  “Blumen”  (i.  e.,  “Flow- 
ers”) ; all  of  which  were  published  in 
Schlegel’s  “Athenaeum”  of  1798  and  1800, 


12 


under  the  pseudonym  “Novalis”  then  as- 
sumed by  him. 

About  a year  after  the  death  of  his  first 
love,  Novalis  formed  an  acquaintance  with 
Julie  von  Charpentier  and  became  en- 
gaged to  marry  her,  although  his  Sophie 
continued  to  be  the  center  of  his  thoughts ; 
nay,  as  one  departed,  like  Dante’s  Bea- 
trice, she  stood  in  higher  reverence  with 
him  than  when  visible  and  near.  Soon 
after  this  Novalis  formed  an  acquaintance 
with  the  elder  Schlegel,  who,  together 
with  Tieck  whom  he  first  met  in  Jena, 
seems  to  have  occasioned  frequent  inter- 
ruptions in  the  young  student’s  work. 
From  Artern  at  the  foot  of  the  Kyffhauser 
Mountain,  Novalis  went  very  often  to 
Jena  to  see  his  friends,  and  on  one  such 
occasion  in  the  autumn  of  1799,  he  read  to 
them  certain  of  his  “Devotional  Songs,”* 
which  were  to  form  part  of  a Christian 
hymnbook,  which  he  meant  to  accompany 
with  a collection  of  sermons.  About  this 
time  he  composed  the  first  volume  of  his 
“Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen,”  a sort  of 

* “Geistliche  Lieder.” 


13 


art-romance,  intended  as  he  himself  said, 
to  be  an  “Apotheosis  of  Poetry.” 

In  1800,  Novalis,  who  for  years  had  had 
a tendency  to  consumption,  was  taken 
with  the  disease  in  its  most  acute  form ; 
and  in  the  days  of  his  sickness  he  enjoyed 
communion  with  the  writings  of  Lavater, 
Zinzendorf,  and  other  mystical  writers, 
as  well  as  with  the  Biblical  treasures. 
He  died  March  25,  1801,  in  the  house  of 
his  parents,  gently  and  to  the  music  of 
the  piano  which  he  had  asked  his  brother 
to  play.  “The  expression  of  his  face,” 
says  Tieck,  “was  very  much  like  that  of 
John  the  Evangelist,  shown  in  Albert 
Diirer’s  glorious  engraving.  . . His  friend- 
liness, his  geniality,  made  him  universally 
beloved ....  He  could  be  as  happy  as  a 
child;  he  jested  with  cheerfulness,  and 
permitted  himself  to  become  the  object 
of  jests  for  the  company.  Free  from  all 
vanity  and  pride  of  learning,  a stranger 
to  all  affectation  and  hypocrisy,  he  was  a 
genuine  true  man,  the  purest  and  most 
lovely  embodiment  of  a noble  immortal 
spirit.” 

In  the  second  edition  of  his  “Reden 


14 


iiber  Religion”  (“Discourses  on  Relig- 
ion”), Schleiermacher  speaks  thus  of  No- 
valis:  “I  shall  point  you  to  a glorious  ex- 
ample, which  you  all  ought  to  know:  to 
that  divine  youth  who  too  early  fell  asleep, 
to  whom  all  that  his  spirit  touched  became 
art,  and  whose  whole  perception  of  the 
world  became  immediately  a great  poem ; 
and  whom  although  he  has  hardly  done 
more  in  fact  than  utter  his  first  strains, — 
you  must  associate  with  the  richest  poets, 
those  few  who  are  as  profound  as  they 
are  vital  and  clear.  In  him  behold  the 
power  of  the  inspiration  and  reflective- 
ness of  a pious  soul;  and  confess  that 
when  philosophers  will  be  religious  and 
seek  God,  like  Spinoza,  and  artists  will  be 
pious  and  love  Christ,  like  Novalis,  then 
will  the  great  resurrection  be  celebrated 
for  both  their  worlds.” 

Novalis  is  best  known  inProtestant  Ger- 
many by  his  “Devotional  Songs,”  which 
will  always  remain  his  lasting  monument, 
since  they  are  the  keynote  of  his  love  for 
his  Saviour;  and  though  they  do  not  bear 
the  stamp  of  church  hymns,  still  they  are 
adapted  for  singing  in  quiet  solitude,  even 


is 


within  the  heart.  Schlegel  pronounced 
Novalis’s  songs  “the  divinest”  things  he 
ever  wrote,  and  through  the  influence  of 
Schleiermacher  some  have  been  included 
in  the  “Berliner  Gesangbuch.”  Schleier- 
macher quoted  these  hymns  in  the  pulpit 
with  deep  emotion.  Rothe,  the  greatest 
theologian  since  Schleiermacher,  has  writ- 
ten a sympathetic  and  appreciative  essay 
on  our  poet  in  which  he  says:  “Novalis  is 
the  type  of  a modern  religious  poet,  and 
even  of  a Christian  life  that  only  in  the 
future  will  attain  its  full  realization.” 
Pfleiderer  — no  friend  of  the  Romantic 
School  of  pietism  — says:  “Nowhere  is 
there  any  sweeter  or  more  powerful  ex- 
pression of  that  warm  and  hearty  inward- 
ness of  Protestant  mysticism  which  mani- 
fested itself  in  pietism,  and  exercised  so 
precious  and  salutary  an  influence  on  the 
German  people,  then  stiff  and  frozen  from 
the  hands  of  supernaturalists  and  ration- 
alists alike,  than  in  the  “Devotional 
Songs”  of  Novalis.  They  are  the  true  Song 
of  Songs  of  pious  love  for  the  Saviour,  and 
express  the  whole  gamut  of  its  feelings 
from  the  deepest  sorrow  to  the  highest 


To 


blessedness  and  joy.  He  who  gave  the 
Protestant  Church  these  hymns,  which 
belong  to  the  most  precious  jewels  of 
the  religious  poetry  of  all  ages,  he  surely 
— Romanticism  notwithstanding — was  a 
good  Evangelical  Christian.”  (“Philos- 
ophy of  Religion,”  I,  274.) 

Beyschlag,  who  has  edited  his  “Devo- 
tional Songs,”  dwells  with  deep  admiration 
on  “the  charm  of  inward  truth”  and  the 
spiritual  elevation  of  these  remarkable 
Christian  hymns. 

The  publication  of  Carlyle’s  memorable 
essay  on  Novalis  in  1829,  contributed  not 
a little  to  make  “the  chords  of  many  an 
English  heart  thrill  under  the  fascination 
and  mysteriousness  of  his  poetical 
thought,”  and  as  early  as  in  1841  we  meet 
with  an  English  translation  of  some  of 
the  poetical  pieces  of  Novalis.  “As  a 
poet,”  says  Carlyle,  “Novalis  is  no  less 
idealistic  than  as  a philosopher.  His 
poems  are  breathings  of  a high,  devout 
soul,  feeling  always  that  here  he  has  no 
home,  but  looking,  as  in  clear  vision  to 
a ‘city  that  hath  foundations.’  He  loves 
external  nature  with  a singular  depth, 


1 7 


nay,  we  might  say,  he  reverences  her, 
and  holds  unspeakable  communings  with 
her;  for  Nature  is  no  longer  dead,  hostile 
matter,  but  the  veil  and  mysterious  gar- 
ment of  the  Unseen;  as  it  were,  the  Voice 
with  which  the  Deity  proclaims  to  man. 
These  two  qualities, — his  pure  religious 
temper,  and  heartfelt  love  of  nature, — 
bring  him  into  true  poetic  relation  both 
with  the  spiritual  and  the  material  world, 
and  perhaps  constitute  his  chief  work  as 
a poet.” 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  English 
essayist  had  so  little  to  say  of  Novalis’s 
“Devotional  Songs”  which  Schlegel  and 
Tieck  regarded  as  his  most  important 
poetical  productions.  “They  are  Chris- 
tian hymns  of  great  merit  and  deep  fer- 
vent sincerity.  They  display  the  genius 
of  the  Romantic  School  in  its  purest  and 
highest  application,  and  are  appropriately 
ranked  with  Schleiermacher’s  ‘Discourses 
on  Religion,’  as  regards  their  spiritual 
feeling  and  enduring  worth.” 


18 


THE  REDEEMER. 


10 


It  is  related  that  the  father  of  Novalis 
heard  a wonderfully  beautiful  hymn  sung  at  a 
Moravian  service,  by  which  he  was  deeply 
moved;  and  on  inquiring  as  to  who  was  the 
author,  he  received  the  answer:  “O!  do  you 
not  know  that  your  own  son  composed  that 
hymn?” 


20 


I. 


TT  7AS  war’  ich  ohne  dich  gewesen? 

Was  wiird’  ich  ohne  dich  nicht  sein? 
Zu  Furcht  und  Aengsten  auserlesen, 
Stand’  ich  in  weiter  Welt  allein. 

Nichts  wusst’  ich  sicher,  was  ich  liebte, 
Die  Zukunft  war’  ein  dunkler  Schlund; 
Und  wenn  mein  Herz  sich  tief  betriibte, 
Wem  that’  ich  meine  Sorge  kund? 

Einsam  verzehrt  von  Lieb’  und  Sehnen, 
Erschien  mir  nachtlich  jeder  Tag ; 

Ich  folgte  nur  mit  heissen  Thranen 
Dem  wilden  Lauf  des  Lebens  nach. 

Ich  fande  Unruh  im  Getummel, 

Und  hoffnungslosen  Gram  zu  Haus. 

Wer  hielte  ohne  Freund  im  Himmel, 
Wer  hielte  da  auf  Erden  aus? 

Hat  Christus  sich  mir  kund  gegeben, 
Und  bin  ich  seiner  erst  gewiss, 

Wie  schnell  verzehrt  ein  lichtes  Leben 
Die  bodenlose  Finsterniss. 

Mit  ihm  bin  ich  erst  Mensch  geworden; 
Das  Schicksal  wird  verklart  durch  ihn, 
Und  Indien  muss  selbst  im  Norden 
Um  den  Geliebten  frohlich  bliihn. 


Das  Leben  wird  zur  Liebesstunde, 

Die  ganze  Welt  spricht  Lieb’  und  Lust, 
Ein  heilend  Kraut  wachst  jeder  Wunde, 
Und  frei  und  voll  klopft  jede  Brust. 

Fur  alle  seine  tausend  Gaben 
Bleib’  ich  sein  demuthvolles  Kind, 
Gewiss  ihn  unter  uns  zu  haben, 

Wenn  zwei  auch  nur  versammelt  sind. 

O!  geht  hinaus  auf  alien  Wegen, 

Und  holt  die  Irrenden  herein, 

Streckt  jedem  eure  Hand  entgegen, 

Und  ladet  froh  sie  zu  uns  ein. 

Der  Himmel  ist  bei  uns  auf  Erden, 

Im  Glauben  schauen  wir  ihn  an; 

Die  Eines  Glaubens  mit  uns  werden, 
Auch  denen  ist  er  aufgethan. 

Ein  alter,  schwerer  Wahn  von  Siinde 
War  fest  an  unser  Herz  gebannt; 

Wir  irrten  in  der  Nacht  wie  Blinde, 

Von  Reu  und  Lust  zugleich  entbrannt. 
Ein  jedes  Werk  schien  uns  Verbrechen, 
Der  Mensch  ein  Gotterfeind  zu  sein, 

Und  schien  der  Himmel  uns  zu  sprechen. 
So  sprach  er  nur  von  Tod  und  Pein. 


22 


Das  Her z,  des  Lebens  reiche  Quelle, 
Ein  boses  Wesen  wohnte  drinn; 

Und  wards  in  unserm  Geiste  helle, 

So  war  nur  Unruh  der  Gewinn, 

Ein  eisern  Band  hielt  an  der  Erde 
Die  bebenden  Gefangnen  fest; 

Furcht  vor  des  Todes  Richterschwerte 
Verschlang  der  Hoffnung  Ueberrest. 

Da  kam  ein  Heiland,  ein  Befreier, 

Ein  Menschensohn  voll  Lieb’  und  Macht, 
Und  hat  ein  allbelebend  Feuer 
In  unserm  Innern  angefac’nt. 

Nun  sah’n  wir  erst  den  Himmel  offcn 
Als  unser  altes  Vaterland; 

Wir  konnten  glauben  nun  und  hoffen, 
Und  fiihlten  uns  mit  Gott  verwandt. 

Seitdem  verschwand  bei  uns  die  Siinde, 
Und  frohlich  wurde  jeder  Schritt; 

Man  gab  zum  schonsten  Angebinde 
Den  Kindern  diesen  Glauben  mit ; 

Durch  ihn  geheiligt  zog  das  Leben 
Voriiber  wie  ein  sel’ger  Traum, 

Und  ew’ger  Lieb  und  Lust  ergeben, 
Bemerkte  man  den  Abschied  kaum. 


23 


Noch  steht  in  wunderbarem  Glanze 
Der  heilige  Geliebte  hier; 

Geriihrt  von  seinem  Dornenkranze 
Und  seiner  Treue,  weinen  wir. 

Ein  jeder  Mensch  ist  uns  willkommen, 
Der  seine  Hand  mit  uns  ergreift, 

Und,  in  sein  Herz  mit  aufgenommen, 
Zur  Frucht  des  Paradieses  reift. 


(First  Version.) 

'VI7ITHOUT  thee,  what  were  I worth 
being? 

Without  thee,  what  had  I not  grown? 
Anguish  and  fear  all  round  me  seeing. 

In  the  wide  world  I stood  alone; 

For  all  I loved  had  found  no  shelter; 

The  future  a dim  gulf  had  lain; 

And  when  my  heart  in  tears  did  welter, 
To  whom  had  I poured  out  my  pain? 

Consumed  in  love  and  longing  lonely. 
Each  day  had  worn  the  night’s  dull  face ; 
With  hot  tears  I had  followed  only 
Afar  life’s  wildly-rushing  race. 


24 


In  crowded  streets,  all  restless  driven, 
Grief-gnawed  beside  the  hopeless  hearth— 
What  man  without  a friend  in  heaven 
Could  bear  his  burden  on  the  earth? 

But  if  his  heart  once  Jesus  bareth, 

And  I of  him  right  sure  can  be, 

How  soon  a living  glory  scareth 
The  bottomless  obscurity! 

Manhood  in  him  first  man  attaineth; 

All  fate  in  him  transfigured  glows ; 

On  frozen  Iceland  India  gaineth, 

And  round  the  loved  one  blooms  and 
blows. 

Life  turns  a twilight  softly  stealing, 

The  world  speaks  all  of  love  and  glee ; 
Grows  for  each  wound  a herb  of  healing, 
And  every  heart  beats  full  and  free. 

I,  for  his  thousand-folded  giving, 

His  humble  child,  his  knees  embrace ; 
Sure  that  we  share  his  presence  living 
When  two  are  gathered  in  one  place. 

Forth,  forth  to  all  highways  and  hedges ! 
Compel  the  wanderers  to  come  in; 


25 


Stretch  out  the  hand  that  good-will 
pledges, 

And  glad  invite  them  to  their  kin. 

See  heaven  from  lowly  earth  up-dawning ! 
By  faith  we  see  it  round  us  spread: 

To  all  with  us  one  spirit  owning, 

To  them  with  us  ’tis  opened. 

An  old  and  heavy  guilt-illusion — 
Oppressed  our  hearts  with  ancient  doom ; 
Blindly  we  strayed  in  night’s  confusion: 
Pleasure  and  pain  did  both  consume. 
Whate’er  we  did,  some  law  was  broken ; 
Mankind  appeared  God’s  enemy; 

And  if  we  thought  the  heavens  had 
spoken, 

They  spoke  but  death  and  misery. 

The  heart,  of  life  the  fountain  swelling — 
An  evil  creature  lay  therein; 

If  more  light  shone  into  our  dwelling. 
More  unrest  only  did  we  win. 

Down  to  the  earth  an  iron  fetter 
Fast  held  us,  trembling  captive  crew; 
Fear  of  Law’s  sword,  with  Death  the 
whetter, 

Did  swallow  up  hope’s  residue. 

26 


Then  came  a saviour  to  deliver— 

A son  of  man  in  love  and  might ! 

A holy  fire,  of  life  all-giver, 

In  our  dull  hearts  he  set  a light. 

Then  first  heaven  opened;  then,  no  fable, 
Our  own  old  Fatherland  we  trod; 

To  hope  and  trust  now  first  were  able, 
And  knew  ourselves  akin  to  God. 

Then  vanished  sin’s  old  specter  dismal; 
Our  every  step  grew  glad  and  brave ! 
Best  natal  gift,  in  rite  baptismal, 

Their  own  faith  men  their  children  gave. 
Holy  in  him,  life  since  hath  floated 
Like  happy  dream  across  the  heart ; 

To  endless  love  and  joy  devoted, 

We  hardly  know  it,  when  we  part. 

Still  stands  in  wonder  glory-waking, 

The  holy  shepherd  midst  his  sheep; 
With  his  thorn-crown,  and  faithful  story, 
Our  hearts  are  broken,  and  we  weep. 
Welcome  whoso  from  death  will  waken, 
And  grasp  his  hand  of  sacrifice; 

Into  his  heart  with  us  he’s  taken, 

To  ripe  a fruit  of  Paradise. 

G.  Macdonald  in  “Good  Words,”  1871. 


27 


(Second  Version.) 

OWHAT  would  I have  been  without 
thee? 

What  without  thee  would  I be  not? 

Dark  fear  and  anguish  were  about  me, 
Alone  in  this  wide  world,  my  lot. 

No  certain  love  had  I been  proving, 

The  future,  an  abyss  concealed ; 

When  sorrows  deep  my  heart  were  mov- 
ing, 

To  whom  had  I my  care  revealed? 

Alone,  consumed  by  love  and  longing, 
Each  day  appeared  as  dark  as  night; 

And,  though  hot  tears  were  ever  throng- 
ing, 

I rushed  along  life’s  wildered  flight; 

By  unrest  through  the  turmoil  driven, 

I felt  a hopeless  grief  within; 

Who  could  without  a friend  in  Heav’n, 
On  earth  a sure  stay  ever  win? 

But  now  has  Christ,  himself  revealing, 
Become  to  me  the  Truth,  the  Way; 

The  Light  of  Life,  past  all  concealing, 
Drives  boundless  darkness  quick  away ; 
With  him  is  manhood  crowned  by  duty, 
And  fate  through  him  doth  glorious  show ; 

22 


Ev’n  in  the  north  all  India’s  beauty, 

Must  round  this  loved  one  joyous  blow. 

Life  now  is  filled  with  love  o’erflowing, 
The  whole  world  speaks  of  love  and  rest ; 
Now  leaves  to  heal  all  wounds  are  grow- 
ing, 

And  free  and  full  beats  every  breast. 

For  all  his  thousand  gifts  so  precious, 
His  humble  child,  I hold  him  dear; 

And  in  our  midst  he  comes  most  gracious 
Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  here. 

O go  ye  out  o’er  all  the  highways, 

And  bring  the  wanderers  gently  in 
And  even  in  the  darkest  byways, 

Let  Love’s  glad  call  the  fallen  win; 

For  Heaven  is  now  on  earth  appearing, 
In  faith  we  can  behold  it  plain; 

To  all  it  opens,  who  are  hearing 
In  faith  the  truths  that  shall  remain. 

Sin’s  old  and  heavy  curse,  past  hoping, 
Had  all  our  hearts  to  frenzy  turned; 

We  wandered  in  the  night,  blind,  groping. 
While  both  remorse  and  pleasure  burned ; 


29 


And  every  deed  seemed  unforgiven, 

Man  felt  himself  to  God  a foe ; 

And  seemed  a voice  to  speak  from 
Heaven, 

It  spake  alone  of  death  and  woe. 

Within  the  heart  where  life  should 
brighten, 

An  evil  spirit  dwelt  and  reigned; 

If  truths  betimes  the  soul  did  lighten, 
But  more  unrest  was  all  it  gained ; 

An  iron  hand  in  earth’s  dark  prison, 

Held  fast  the  soul  in  dread  of  doom ; 

And  Death’s  drawn  sword  in  fearful  vis- 
ion, 

Did  what  remained  of  hope  consume. 

Then  came  a Saviour  to  deliver, 

The  Son  of  Man  with  love  and  power ; 

He  lit  within  the  fire  that  never 
Will  cease  to  glow  till  life’s  last  hour; 
And  now  we  see  the  opened  Heaven, 
Eternal  home  for  our  abode ; 

And  to  us  faith  and  hope  are  given, 

That  we  may  feel  akin  with  God. 

Now  conquered  Sin  hath  lost  his  terror, 
And  joyous  every  step  is  now; 


3° 


And  this  pure  faith  to  guard  from  error 
We  wreathe  around  the  children’s  brow. 
And  by  it  life  new  consecrated, 

Now  flows  on  like  a blessed  dream ; 

And  by  eternal  love  elated, 

The  glad  farewell  no  death  doth  seem. 

And  still  in  wondrous  glory  living, 

The  Holy  Saviour  standeth  near; 

His  crown  of  thorns,  his  faithful  giving, 
Still  draw  from  us  affection’s  tear. 

Then  welcome  all  whose  sins  are  wipen, 
Who  seize  his  hand,  his  goodness  prize ; 
They,  in  his  heart  received,  shall  ripen 
To  golden  fruit  of  Paradise. 

W.  Hastie  in  “Hymns  and  Thoughts  on 
Religion  by  Novalis,”  1888. 


GOD  WITHIN  US. 


33 


II. 


T^ERN  im  Osten  wird  es  helle, 
Graue  Zeiten  werden  jung; 

Aus  der  lichten  Farbenquelle 
Einen  langen  tiefen  Trunk! 

Alter  Sehnsucht  heilige  Gewahrung, 
Siisse  Lieb’  in  gottlicher  Verklarung! 

Endlich  kommt  zur  Erde  nieder 
Aller  Himmel  sel’ges  Kind; 

Schaffend  im  Gesang  weht  wieder 
Um  die  Erde  Lebenswind, 

Weht  zu  neuen  ewig  lichten  Flammen 
Langst  verstiebte  Funken  hier  zusammen. 

Ueberall  entspringt  aus  Griiften 
Neues  Leben,  neues  Blut; 

Ew’gen  Frieden  uns  zu  stiften, 

Taucht  er  in  die  Lebensflut; 

Steht  mit  vollen  Handen  in  der  Mitte, 
Liebevoll  gewartig  jeder  Bitte. 

Lasse  seine  milden  Blicke 
Tief  in  deine  Seele  gehn, 

Und  von  seinem  ew’gen  Gliicke 
Sollst  du  dich  ergriffen  sehn. 

Alle  Herzen,  Geister  und  die  Sinnen 
Werden  einen  neuen  Tanz  beginnen. 


35 


Greife  dreist  nach  seinen  Handen, 
Prage  dir  sein  Antlitz  ein; 

Musst  dich  immer  nach  ihm  wenden, 
Bluthe  nach  dem  Sonnenschein ; 

Wirst  du  nur  das  ganze  Herz  ihm  zeigen, 
Bleibt  er  wie  ein  treues  Weib  dir  eigen. 

Unser  ist  sie  nun  ge worden, 

Gottheit,  die  uns  oft  erschreckt, 

Hat  im  Siiden  and  im  Norden 
Himmelskeime  rasch  geweckt; 

Und  so  lasst  im  vollen  Gottesgarten 
Treu  uns  jede  Knosp’  und  Bluthe  warten. 


(First  Version.) 

A FAR  the  eastern  sky  is  glowing, 
Hoary  time  again  grows  young; 
From  golden  springs  of  light  fairflowing 
Take  one  draught  inspiring,  long: 
Blessed  fulfilment  of  long  yearnings  old, 
Godlike  apparent,  gentlest  love  behold. 

At  last,  at  last  to  earth  descending, 

The  holy  Child  of  Heaven  is  come; 


36 


Gales  of  life  in  music  blending 
Breathe  o’er  the  land  awakening  bloom, 
Breathe  into  flame  that  nevermore  ex- 
pires 

The  scattered  embers  of  extinguished 
fires. 

From  the  deep  abyss  reviving 
New  life  and  energies  upspring, 

See  him  in  Life’s  ocean  diving 
Endless  peace  for  us  to  bring: 

Lo!  in  the  midst  with  bliss-bestowing 
hands 

Heedful  of  every  suppliant  He  stands. 

Let  his  aspect  mildly  beaming. 

Deeply  sink  thy  soul  within; 

Thus  his  joys  unmeasured  streaming 
O’er  thee,  ever  shalt  thou  win: 

All  spirits,  hearts  and  reasonings  of  men 
In  choral  harmony  shall  mingle  then. 

To  reach  his  arms  be  thy  endeavor; 
Impressed  within  his  traits  instil ; 
Towards  him  must  thou  turn  forever, 
Spread  forth  unto  the  sunshine  still : 


37 


Lay  bare  thine  heart  to  him,  let  all  else 
perish, 

And  like  a faithful  spouse  he  will  thee 
cherish. 

Now  to  dwell  with  us  is  given 
The  Godhead  once  terrific  found; 
Wakening  to  life  the  seed  of  Heaven, 
From  the  north  to  southern  bound: 

Wait  awhile,  and  God’s  own  garden  fair 
For  us  unfading  flower  and  fruit  shall 
bear. 

H.  Lowe  in  “Lyra  Messianica.” 
(Second  Version.) 

T^AR  in  east  the  dawn  is  glowing, 

Grey  old  times  becoming  young ; 
From  Light’s  radiant  fountain  flowing, 
Streaks  of  glory  bright  are  flung: 

Ancient  yearnings,  holy  adumbration, 
Finding  Love’s  divine  transfiguration. 

Down  at  last  to  earth  descending, 

Comes  Heav’n’s  own  all-blessed  Child; 
Breezes  blown  from  pure  skies  bending, 
Breathe  round  earth  a music  mild: 


38 


Breathing  fan  to  new  eternal  splendor 
Life’s  long  hidden  spark  in  brighter  won- 
der. 

From  deep  vaults  illumined  never, 
Springs  new  life  in  leaf  and  bud; 

Since  he,  bringing  peace  forever, 

Plunged  into  Life’s  foaming  flood ; 

Now  his  hands  are  stretched  forth  full  and 
pressing, 

Lovingly  to  all  who  ask  his  blessing. 

Let  his  glances,  mild  and  gracious, 
Deeply  sink  into  thy  soul; 

And  his  joy,  eternal,  precious, 

Over  thee  shall  ever  roll; 

All  hearts  and  thoughts,  with  all  their 
sense  and  willing, 

Shall  then  begin  to  joy  in  Life’s  fulfilling. 

Boldly  seize  those  hands  appealing, 

By  his  radiant  face  be  won; 

Turn  to  him  with  all  thy  feeling, 

Like  the  flower  toward  the  sun; 

If  but  to  him  thou  turn’st,  thy  whole  heart 
showing, 

He’ll  prove  thy  faithful  bride,  his  heart 
bestowing. 


39 


New  Power  divine  to  us  is  given, 
Godhead  which  us  oft  dismayed; 

From  south  to  north,  the  germs  of  Heaven 
Divinely  waked,  are  full  displayed; 

So  let  us  now,  in  God’s  own  garden  grow- 
ing, 

Wait  faithful  till  each  bud’s  eternal  blow- 
ing. 

W.  Hastie. 


40 


THE  SON  OF  MAN. 


4« 


III. 


T CH  weiss  nicht,  was  ich  suchen  konnte, 
War’  jenes  liebe  Wesen  mein, 

Wenn  er  mich  seine  Freude  nennte, 

Und  bei  mir  war’,  als  war’  ich  sein. 


So  viele  gehn  umher  und  suchen 
Mit  wild  verzerrtem  Angesicht; 

Sie  heissen  immer  sich  die  Klugen, 
Und  kennen  diesen  Schatz  doch  nicht. 


Der  eine  denkt,  er  hat’s  ergriffen, 

Und  was  er  hat,  ist  nichts  als  Gold; 

Der  will  die  ganze  Welt  umschiffen, — 
Nichts  als  ein  Name  wird  sein  Sold. 

Der  lauft  nach  einem  Siegerkranze, 
Und  der  nach  einem  Lorbeerzweig, 

Und  so  wird  von  verschied’nem  Glanze 
Getauscht  ein  jeder,  keiner  reich. 

Hat  Er  sich  euch  nicht  kund  gegeben? 
Vergasst  ihr,  wer  fiir  euch  erblich? 

Wer  uns  zu  Lieb’  aus  diesem  Leben 
In  bittrer  Qual  verachtet  wich? 


43 


n 


Habt  ihr  von  Ihm  denn  nichts  gelesen, 
Kein  armes  Wort  von  ihm  gehort? 

Wie  himmlisch  gut  Er  uns  gewesen, 

Und  welches  Gut  Er  uns  bescheert? 

Wie  Er  vom  Himmel  hergekommen, 
Der  schonsten  Mutter  hohes  Kind? 
Welch’  Wort  die  Welt  von  Ihm  vernom- 
men, 

Wie  viel  durch  Ihn  genesen  sind? 


Wie  er  von  Liebe  nur  beweget 
Sich  ganz  uns  hingegeben  hat, 

Und  in  die  Erde  sich  geleget 
Zum  Grundstein  einer  Gottesstadt? 

Kann  diese  Botschaft  euch  nicht  riihren, 
1st  so  ein  Mensch  euch  nicht  genug, 

Und  offnet  ihr  nicht  eure  Thiiren 
Dem,  der  den  Abgrund  fur  euch  schlug? 

Lasst  ihr  nicht  alles  willig  fahren, 
Thut  gern  auf  jeden  Wunsch  Verzicht; 
Wollt  euer  Herz  nur  Ihm  bewahren, 
Wenn  Er  euch  seine  Huld  verspricht? 


44 


Nimm  du  mich  hin,  du  Held  der  Liebe ! 
Du  bist  mein  Leben,  meine  Welt; 

Wenn  nichts  vom  Irdischen  mir  bliebe, 
So  weiss  ich  wer  mich  schadlos  halt. 

Du  giebst  mir  meine  Lieben  wieder, 
Du  bleibst  in  Ewigkeit  mir  treu; 
Anbetend  sinkt  der  Himmel  nieder, 

Und  dennoch  wohnest  du  mir  bei. 


(English  Version.) 

T KNOW  not  what  I could  desire 
A Wert  thou,  dear  being,  only  mine ; 
Wert  thou  to  crown  my  soul  with  glad- 
ness, 

And  still  be  near  and  call  me  thine. 

The  vexed  crowd  to  and  fro  are  hurrying, 
With  eager  glance  they  search  around ; 
They  call  themselves  the  wise,  the  pru- 
dent, 

And  yet  this  treasure  have  not  found. 


45 


One  thinks  his  hand  the  prize  now  grasp- 
ing— 

Lo ! what  he  hath  is  naught  but  gold ; 
Another  earth  and  sea  exploring. 

Has  for  a name  his  quiet  sold. 

One  for  the  crown  of  victory  striveth, 
One  for  the  poet’s  wreath  of  bay, 

And  thus  the  ever-changing  glitter 
Attracting  all  doth  each  betray. 

To  you  hath  he  himself  revealed  not? 
Can  you  forget  who  died  for  you? 

Who  for  your  sakes  from  life  departed— 
Yea,  scorn  and  bitter  anguish  knew? 
Have  ye  not  read,  have  ye  not  listened? 
Of  him,  from  him,  ne’er  heard  a word? 
How  he  brought  down  divinest  mercy, 
What  endless  good  on  us  conferred? 

How  from  high  heaven  he  descended, 
The  exalted  son  of  mother  blest? 

What  tidings  to  the  earth  he  carried — 
How  many  healed  by  him  find  rest? 

How  by  pure  love  drawn  down,  he  offered 
Himself  for  us,  a victim  free? 

Low  laid  in  earth,  of  God’s  own  temple 
The  eternal  corner-stone  to  be? 


46 


And  shall  not  such  a message  move  you? 
Is  not  this  man  sufficient  found? 

Your  doors  to  him  will  ye  not  open 
Who  passed  for  you  hell’s  dismal  bound? 
Will  ye  not  then  lose  all  things  gladly, 
Forego  with  joy  each  idle  thought, 

Your  hearts  for  him  alone  reserving 
Whose  grace  is  promised  you  unbought? 

Lift  thou  me  up,  thou  gentle  Saviour! 
Thou  art  my  world,  my  life  is  thine ; 
Though  naught  of  earthly  hope  were  left 
me, 

I know  my  recompense  divine. 

Thou  all  my  love  with  love  returnest ; 
Thy  truth  forever  shall  endure ; 

The  heavens  bow  down  in  adoration; 
Thou  dwellest  still  within  me  sure. 

H.  Lowe  in  “Lyra  Mystica.” 


47 


THE  COMFORTER. 


49 


IV. 


"ITHTENN  in  bangen  trliben  Stunden 
’ ^ Unser  Her z beinah  verzagt, 
Wenn,  von  Krankheit  iiberwunden, 
Angst  an  unserm  Innern  nagt, 

Wir  der  Treugeliebten  denken, 

Wie  sie  Gram  und  Kummer  driickt, 
Wolken  unsern  Blick  beschranken, 

Die  kein  Hoffnungsstrahl  durchblickt: 

O dann  neigt  sich  Gott  heriiber, 
Seine  Liebe  kommt  uns  nah; 

Sehnen  wir  uns  dann  hiniiber, 

Steht  sein  Engel  vor  uns  da, 

Bringt  den  Kelch  des  frischen  Lebens, 
Lispelt  Muth  und  Trost  uns  zu, 

Und  wir  beten  nicht  vergebens 
Auch  fur  die  Geliebten  Ruh. 


(English  Version.) 

T!K7HEN  in  hours  of  fear  and  failing, 
* * All  but  quite  our  heart  despairs ; 
When,  with  sickness  driven  wailing, 
Anguish  at  our  bosom  tears; 


51 


When  our  loved  ones  we  remember; 
All  their  grief  and  trouble  rue ; 

And  the  clouds  of  our  December 
Let  no  beam  of  hope  shine  through; 

Then,  oh  then!  God  bends  him  o’er  us; 
Then  his  love  grows  very  clear; 

Long  we  heavenward  then — before  us 
Lo,  his  angel  standing  near ! 

Fresh  the  cup  of  life  he  reaches ; 
Whispers  courage,  comfort  new; 

Nor  in  vain  our  prayer  beseeches 
Rest  for  the  beloved  too. 

G.  Macdonald. 


52 


CONSOLATION. 


53 


V. 


TTC  7ER  einsam  sitzt  in  seiner  Kammer. 

’ * Und  schwere  bittre  Thranen  weint, 
Wem  nur  gefarbt  von  Noth  und  Jammer 
Die  Nachbarschaft  umher  erscheint; 

Wer  in  das  Bild  vergangner  Zeiten 
Wie  tief  in  einen  Abgrund  sieht, 

In  welchen  ihn  von  alien  Seiten 
Ein  susses  Weh  hinunter  zieht; — 

Es  ist,  als  lagen  Wunderschatze 
Da  unten  fur  ihn  aufgehauft, 

Nach  deren  Schloss  in  wilder  Hetze 
Mit  athemloser  Brust  er  greift; 

Die  Zukunft  liegt  in  oder  Diirre 
Entsetzlich  lang  und  bang  vor  ihm ; 

Er  schweift  umher,  allein  und  irre, 

Und  sucht  sich  selbst  mit  UngestUm:— ■ 

Ich  fall’  ihm  weinend  in  die  Arme ; 
Auch  mir  war  einst  wie  dir  zu  Muth: 
Doch  ich  genas  von  meinem  Harme, 

Und  weiss  nun,  wo  man  ewig  ruht. 


55 


Dich  muss,  wie  mich,  ein  Wesen  tro- 
sten, 

Das  innig  liebte,  litt  und  starb; 

Das  selbst  fur  die,  die  ihm  am  wehsten 
Gethan,  mit  tausend  Freuden  starb. 

Er  starb,  und  dennoch  all  Tage 
Vernimmst  du  seine  Lieb’  und  ihn, 

Und  kannst  getrost  in  jeder  Lage 
Ihn  zartlich  in  die  Arme  ziehn. 

Mit  ihm  kommt  neues  Blut  und  Leben 
In  dein  erstorbenes  Gebein, 

Und  wenn  du  ihm  dein  Herz  gegeben. 

So  ist  auch  seines  ewig  dein. 

Was  du  verlorst,  hat  er  gefunden; 

Du  triffst  bei  ihm,  was  du  geliebt, 

Und  ewig  bleibt  mit  dir  verbunden, 

Was  seine  Hand  dir  wiedergiebt. 


(English  Version.) 

TI7HO  in  his  chamber  sitteth  lonely, 
And  weepeth  heavy,  bitter  tears; 
To  whom  in  doleful  colors  only, 

Of  want  and  woe,  the  world  appears; 


56 


Who  of  the  past,  gulf-like  receding, 
Would  search  with  questing  eyes  the  core, 
Down  into  which  a sweet  woe,  pleading, 
From  all  sides  wiles  him  evermore;— 

’Tis  as  a treasure  past  believing 
Heaped  up  for  him  all  waiting  stood, 
Whose  hoard  he  seeks,  with  bosom  heav- 
ing, 

Outstretched  hands  and  fevered  blood; 

He  sees  the  future,  arid,  meager, 

In  horrid  length  before  him  lie; 

Alone  he  roams  the  waste,  and,  eager, 
Seeks  his  old  self  with  restless  cry:— 

Into  his  arms  I sink,  all  tearful: 

I once,  like  thee,  with  woe  was  wan; 

But  I am  well,  and  whole,  and  cheerful, 
And  know  the  eternal  rest  of  man. 

Thou  too  must  find  the  one  consoler 
Who  inly  loved,  endured,  and  died — 

For  those  who  wrought  him  keenest  dolor, 
With  thousandfold  rejoicing  died. 


57 


He  died — and  yet,  fresh  every  morrow, 
His  love  and  him  thine  eyes  behold : 
Reach  daring  arms,  in  joy  or  sorrow, 

And  to  thy  heart  him,  ardent,  fold. 

From  him  new  life-blood  will  be  driven 
Through  thy  dry  bones  that  withering 
pine ; 

And  once  thy  heart  to  him  is  given, 

Then  is  his  heart  forever  thine. 

What  thou  didst  lose,  he  found,  he  hold- 
eth; 

With  him  thy  love  thou  soon  shalt  see ; 
And  evermore  thy  heart  infoldeth 
What  once  his  hand  restores  to  thee. 

G.  Macdonald. 


58 


REFUGE. 


59 


VI. 


■pS  giebt  so  bange  Zeiten, 

Es  giebt  so  triiben  Muth, 

Wo  alles  sich  von  weiten 
Gespenstisch  zeigen  thut. 

Es  schleichen  wilde  Schrecken, 
So  angstlich  leise  her, 

Und  tiefe  Nachte  decken 
Die  Seele  zentnerschwer. 

Die  sichern  Stiitzen  schwanken; 
Kein  Halt  der  Zuversicht; 

Der  Wirbel  der  Gedanken 
Gehorcht  dem  Willen  nicht. 

Der  Wahnsinn  sieht  und  locket 
Unwiderstehlich  hin  ; 

Der  Puls  des  Lebens  stocket, 

Und  stumpf  ist  jeder  Sinn. 

Wer  hat  das  Kreuz  erhoben 
Zum  Schutz  fur  jedes  Herz? 

Wer  wohnt  im  Himmel  droben, 
Und  hilft  in  Angst  und  Schmerz? 


Geh  zu  dem  Wunderstamme, 
Gieb  stiller  Sehnsucht  Raum; 
Aus  ihm  geht  eine  Flamme 
Und  zehrt  den  schweren  Traum. 

Ein  Engel  zieht  dich  wieder 
Gerettet  auf  den  Strand, 

Du  schaust  voll  Freuden  nieder 
In  das  gelobte  Land. 


(First  Version.) 

^T^HE  times  are  all  so  fearful! 

* The  heart  so  full  of  cares! 

To  eyes  that  question  tearful 
The  future  spectral  stares. 

Wild  terrors  creep  and  hover 
With  foot  so  ghastly  soft ! 

The  soul  black  midnights  cover 
Like  mountains  piled  aloft. 

Firm  props  like  reeds  are  waving ; 
For  trust  is  left  no  stay; 

The  thoughts,  with  whirlpool-raving, 
No  more  the  will  obey. 


62 


Frenzy,  with  eye  resistless, 

Decoys  from  Truth’s  defense; 

Life’s  pulse  is  flagging  listless, 

And  dull  is  every  sense. 

Who  hath  the  cross  upheaved, 

To  shelter  and  make  whole? 

Who  lives  from  sight  received, 

That  he  may  help  the  soul? 

Haste  to  the  tree  of  wonder ; 

Give  silent  longing  room ; 

Outgoing  flames  asunder 
Will  cleave  the  phantom-gloom. 

Draws  thee  an  angel  tender 
In  safety  on  the  strand; 

Lo!  at  thy  feet  in  splendor, 
Outspreads  the  promised  land. 

G.  Macdonald. 

(Second  Version.) 

'T'HERE  are  dark  hours  of  sadness, 
A Dark  hours  of  hopeless  pain, 
When  thoughts  akin  to  madness 
Flash  wildly  through  the  brain, 


63 


When  nameless  anguish  presses 
The  heart  beyond  control, 

And  deepest  gloom  possesses 
The  faint  and  trembling  soul; 

When  every  prop  seems  taken 
From  life’s  receding  shore, 

And  the  mind,  tempest-shaken, 
Obeys  the  will  no  more, 

^ ^ ^ 

But  who,  from  yonder  heaven, 

Pities  each  earthly  woe ! 

Who  yonder  cross  has  given 
For  every  grief  below! 

Thine  arms  around  it  twining, 

To  hope  and  prayer  give  room, 

For  there  a flame  is  shining, 

To  light  thy  path  of  gloom; 

An  angel  form  advances, 

And  leads  thee  to  that  strand, 
Whence  thy  delighted  glances 
May  see  the  promised  land. 

From  “Evenings  with  the  Sacred  Poets” 
With  omission  of  the  4th  stanza. 


64 


THE  HOUR  OF  BLISS. 


65 


UNTER  tausend  frohen  Stunden, 
So  im  Leben  ich  gefunden, 
Blieb  nur  eine  mir  getreu: 

Eine,  wo  in  tausend  Schmerzen 
Ich  erfuhr  in  meinem  Herzen, 

Wer  fiir  uns  gestorben  sei. 

Meine  Welt  war  mir  zerbrochen; 
Wie  von  einem  Wurm  gestochen 
Welkte  Herz  und  Bliithe  mir; 

Meines  Lebens  ganze  Habe, 

Jeder  Wunsch  lag  mir  im  Grabe, 
Und  zur  Qual  war  ich  noch  hier. 

Da  ich  so  im  Stillen  krankte, 
Ewig  weint’  und  wegverlangte, 

Und  nur  blieb  vor  Angst  und  Wahn 
Ward  mir  plotzlich,  wie  von  oben, 
Weg  des  Grabes  Stein  geschoben, 
Und  mein  Innres  aufgethan. 

Wen  ich  sah,  und  wen  an  seiner 
Hand  erblickte,  frage  keiner; 

Ewig  werd’  ich  dies  nur  sehn, 

Und  von  alien  Lebensstunden 


Wird  nur  die,  wie  meine  Wunden, 
Ewig  heiter  often  stehn. 


(First  Version.) 

the  thousand  hours  of  gladness 
Which  I found  amid  life’s  sadness, 
One  doth  still  supreme  abide; 

One  ’mid  thousand  sorrows  glowing, 
Taught  my  heart  its  highest  knowing: 
Who  for  us  hath  lived  and  died. 

All  my  world  was  broken  lying; 

As  from  gnawing  canker  dying, 

Heart  and  blossom  pined  away; 

All  my  life’s  possessions  cherished 
Every  wish  in  dust  had  perished, 

But  to  torture  came  the  day. 

As  I thus  in  silence  sickened, 

Longed  for  death  as  sorrows  thickened, 
And  but  stayed  from  frantic  fear; 

Then  on  sudden  as  from  heaven, 

The  stone  from  off  the  grave  was  riven, 
And  all  within  was  bright  and  clear. 


68 


Whom  I saw,  and  whom  beholden 
By  his  side  in  vision  golden, 

Ask  not:  for  it  still  I see; 

But  of  all  life’s  hours  of  joyance, 
That  hour  shall  from  all  destroyance, 
Ever  fair  and  open  be. 

W.  Hastie. 
(Second  Version.) 

OF  a thousand  hours  me  meeting 
And  on  life’s  path  gayly  greeting, 
One  alone  hath  kept  its  faith; — 

That  wherein — ah,  sorely  grieved!— 
In  my  heart  I first  perceived 
Who  for  us  hath  died  the  death. 

All  my  world  to  dust  was  beaten; 

As  a worm  had  through  them  eaten, 
Withered  in  me  heart  and  bloom; 

All  my  life  had  sought  and  cherished, 
In  the  grave  had  from  me  perished; 
Anguish  only  was  my  doom. 

While  I thus,  in  silence  pining, 

Ever  wept,  my  life  resigning, 

And  but  waste  and  woe  descried; 

All  at  once  the  night  was  cloven, 


69 


From  my  grave  the  stone  was  hoven, 
And  my  inner  doors  thrown  wide. 

Whom  I saw,  and  who  the  other, 

Ask  me  not,  my  friend,  my  brother!— 
Sight  to  fill  eternal  eyes! 

Lone  in  all  life’s  eves  and  morrows, 
This  one  moment,  like  my  sorrows, 
Shining  open  ever  lies. 

G.  Macdonald. 


HOLY  SORROW. 


71 


VIII. 


■ITHTEINEN  muss  ich,  immer  weinen: 
* * Mocht’  er  einmal  nur  erscheinen, 
Einmal  nur  von  feme  mir. 

Heil’ge  Wehmuth!  ewig  wahren 
Meine  Schmerzen,  meine  Zahren; 

Gleich  erstarren  mocht’  ich  hier. 


Ewig  seh  ich  ihn  nur  leiden, 

Ewig  bittend  ihn  verscheiden: 

O dass  dieses  Herz  nicht  bricht, 
Meine  Augen  sich  nicht  schliessen; 
Ganz  in  Thranen  zu  zerfliessen, 
Dieses  Gluck  verdient’  ich  nicht. 


Weint  denn  keiner  nicht  von  alien? 
Soil  sein  Name  so  verhallen? 

1st  die  Welt  auf  einmal  todt? 

Werd’  ich  nie  aus  seinen  Augen 
Wieder  Lieb’  und  Leben  saugen? 

1st  er  nun  auf  ewig  todt? 


Todt, — was  kann,  was  soil  das  heissen? 
O so  sagt  mir  doch,  ihr  Weisen, 

Sagt  mir  diese  Deutung  an. 


73 


Er  ist  stumm,  und  alle  schweigen; 
Keiner  kann  auf  Erden  zeigen, 

Wo  mein  Herz  ihn  finden  kann. 

Nirgend  kann  ich  hier  auf  Erden 
Jemals  wieder  gliicklich  werden, 
Alles  ist  ein  diistrer  Traum. 

Ich  bin  auch  mit  ihm  verschieden; 
Lag’  ich  doch  mit  ihm  in  Frieden 
Schon  im  unterird’schen  Raum. 

Du,  sein  Vater  und  der  meine, 
Sammle  du  doch  mein  Gebeine 
Zu  dem  seinigen  nur  bald. 

Griin  wird  bald  sein  Hiigel  stehen 
Und  der  Wind  dariiber  wehen, 

Und  verwesen  die  Gestalt. 

Wenn  sie  seine  Liebe  wiissten, 
Alle  Menschen  wiirden  Christen, 
Liessen  alles  andre  stehn; 

Liebten  alle  nur  den  Einen, 

Wiirden  alle  mit  mir  weinen, 

Und  im  bittern  Weh  vergehn. 


74 


(English  Version.) 


■fTTEEP  I must — my  heart  runs  over: 
* * Would  he  once  himself  discover — 
Only  once  from  far  away ! 

Holy  sorrow!  still  prevailing 
Is  the  weeping,  is  the  wailing: 

Would  I here  were  turned  to  clay ! 

Evermore  I see  him  crying, 

Ever  praying,  ever  dying: 

Will  this  heart  unending  beat? 

Will  my  eyes  in  death  close  never? 
Weeping  all  into  a river 
Were  a blessedness  too  sweet ! 

Is  there  none  with  me  lamenting? 

Dies  his  name  in  echoes  fainting? 

Is  the  peopled  world  struck  dead? 

Shall  I from  his  eyes,  ah!  never 
More  drink  love  and  life  forever? 

Is  he  now  and  always  dead? 

Dead!  What  means  it — sound  of  dolors? 
Tell  me  then,  I pray,  ye  scholars — 

What  imports  the  symbol  dim. 

He  is  dumb,  and  all  turn  fro  me ; 

No  one  on  the  earth  can  show  me 
Where  my  heart  might  look  for  him. 


75 


Earth  no  more  while  I am  in  it 
Can  provide  one  happy  minute ; 

All  is  but  a dream  of  woe. 

I too  am  with  him  departed: 

Would  I lay  with  him  still-hearted 
In  the  region  down  below! 

Hear,  oh,  hear,  his  and  my  Father! 
Speedily  my  dead  bones  gather 
Unto  his — oh,  soon,  I pray! 

Grass  will  soon  his  low  mound  cover 
And  the  wand  will  wander  over, 

And  the  form  will  fade  away. 

If  his  love  they  but  perceived, 
Suddenly  had  all  believed, 

Letting  all  things  else  go  by ; 

Lord  of  love  him  only  owning, 

All  with  me  would  fall  bemoaning, 
And  in  bitter  weeping  die. 

G.  Macdonald. 


76 


77 


A translation  of  the  first  three  and  last  stan- 
zas is  also  given  by  the  late  J.  F.  Hurst  in  his 
translation  of  K.  Hagenbach’s  “History  of  the 
Church  of  the  18th  and  19th  Centuries,”  New 
York,  1869,  Vol.  II,  p.  283,  commencing: 

“To  every  one  I say: 

He’s  risen  and  lives  now; 

He  moves  in  our  midst, 

And  with  us  e’er  doth  go.” 


78 


IX. 


TCH  sag’  es  jedem,  dass  er  lebt 

Und  auferstanden  ist, 

Dass  er  in  unsrer  Mitte  schwebt 
Und  ewig  bei  uns  ist. 

Ich  sag  es  jedem;  jeder  sagt 
Es  seinen  Freunden  gleich, 

Dass  bald  an  alien  Orten  tagt 
Das  neue  Himmelreich. 

Jezt  scheint  die  Welt  dem  neuen  Sinn 
Erst  wie  ein  Vaterland; 

Ein  neues  Leben  nimmt  man  hin 
Entziickt  aus  seiner  Hand. 

Hinunter  in  das  tiefe  Meer 
Versank  des  Todes  Graun, 

Und  jeder  kann  nun  leicht  und  hehr 
In  seine  Zukunft  schau’n. 


Der  dunkle  Weg,  den  er  betrat, 
Geht  in  den  Himmel  aus, 

Und  wer  nur  hort  auf  seinen  Rath 
Kommt  auch  in  Vaters  Haus. 


79 


Nun  weint  auch  keiner  mehr  allhie, 
Wenn  eins  die  Augen  schliesst; 

Vom  Wiedersehn,  spat  oder  friih, 
Wird  dieser  Schmerz  versiisst. 

Es  kann  zu  jeder  guten  That 
Ein  jeder  frischer  gliihn, 

Denn  herrlich  wird  ihm  diese  Saat 
In  schonern  Fluren  bliihn. 

Er  lebt,  und  wird  nun  bei  uns  sein, 
Wenn  alles  uns  verlasst! 

Und  so  soil  dieser  Tag  uns  sein 
Ein  Weltverjiingungs-Fest. 


(First  Version.) 

T T E lives ! he’s  risen  from  the  dead ! 

To  every  man  I shout; 

His  presence  over  us  is  spread, 

Goes  with  us  in  and  out! 

To  each  I say  it;  each  apace 
His  comrades  telleth  too — 

That  straight  will  dawn  in  every  place 
The  heavenly  kingdom  new. 


8o 


Now  to  the  newborn  sense  appears 
The  world  a fatherland; 

A new  life  men  receive  with  tears 
Of  rapture  from  his  hand. 

Deep  into  soundless  gulfs  of  sea 
Death’s  horror  sinks  away; 

And  every  man  with  holy  glee 
Can  face  his  coming  day. 

The  darksome  road  that  he  hath  gone 
Leads  out  on  heaven’s  floor; 

Who  heeds  the  counsel  of  the  Son, 

He  finds  the  Father’s  door. 

Weeping  no  longer  shall  endure 
For  them  that  close  their  eyes ; 

For,  soon  or  late,  a meeting  sure 
Shall  make  the  loss  a prize. 

And  now  to  every  noble  deed 
Each  heart  can  fresher  glow ; 

For  many  a fold  the  scattered  seed 
In  lovelier  fields  will  blow. 


81 


He  lives,  he  sits  beside  our  hearths, 
Though  all  friends  else  had  ceased; 
Therefore  this  day  shall  be  the  earth’s 
Rejuvenescence-feast. 

G.  Macdonald. 


(Second  Version.) 

T SAY  to  all  men,  far  and  near, 

That  He  is  risen  again; 

That  he  is  with  us  now  and  here, 

And  ever  shall  remain. 

And  what  I say,  let  each  this  morn 
Go  tell  it  to  his  friend, 

That  soon  in  every  place  shall  dawn 
His  kingdom  without  end. 

Now  first  to  souls  who  thus  awake 
Seems  earth  a fatherland, 

A new  and  endless  life  they  take 
With  rapture  from  his  hand. 

The  tears  of  death  and  of  the  grave 
Are  whelmed  beneath  the  sea, 

And  every  heart  now  light  and  brave 
May  face  the  things  to  be. 

53 


The  way  of  darkness  that  he  trod 
To  heaven  at  last  shall  come, 

And  he  who  hearkens  to  his  word 
Shall  reach  his  Father’s  home. 

Now  let  the  mourner  grieve  no  more, 
Though  his  beloved  sleep, 

A happier  meeting  shall  restore 
Their  light  to  eyes  that  weep. 

Now  every  heart  each  noble  deed 
With  new  resolve  may  dare, 

A glorious  harvest  shall  the  seed 
In  happier  regions  bear. 

He  lives,  his  presence  hath  not  ceased, 
Though  foes  and  fears  be  rife ; 

And  thus  we  hail  in  Easter’s  feast 
A world  renewed  to  life ! 

C.  Winkworth  in  “Lyra  Germanica,”  2d 
series,  1858. 


83 


ALL  IN  ALL. 


85 


X. 


TT  7ENN  ich  ihn  nur  habe, 

Wenn  er  mein  nur  ist, 

Wenn  mein  Herz  bis  hin  zum  Grabe 
Seine  Treue  nie  vergisst: 

Weiss  ich  nichts  von  Leide, 

Fiihle  nichts,  als  Andacht,  Lieb’  und 
Freude. 

Wenn  ich  ihn  nur  habe, 

Lass’  ich  alles  gern, 

Folg’  an  meinem  Wander stabe 
Treugesinnt  nur  meinem  Herrn; 

Lasse  still  die  Andern 

Breite,  lichte,  voile  Strassen  wandern. 

Wenn  ich  ihn  nur  habe, 

Schlaf’  ich  frohlich  ein; 

Ewig  wird  zu  siisser  Labe 
Seines  Herzens  Flut  mir  sein, 

Die  mit  sanftem  Zwingen 

Alles  wird  erweichen  und  durchdringen. 

Wenn  ich  ihn  nur  habe, 

Hab’  ich  auch  die  Welt; 

Selig,  wie  ein  Himmelsknabe, 

Der  der  Jungfrau  Schleier  halt. 


W 


Hingesenkt  im  Schauen, 

Kann  mir  vor  dem  Irdischen  nicht  grauen. 

Wo  ich  ihn  nur  habe, 

1st  mein  Vaterland, 

Und  es  fallt  mir  jede  Gabe 
Wie  ein  Erbtheil  in  die  Hand ; 

Langst  vermisste  Briider 

Find’  ich  nun  in  seinen  Jiingern  wieder. 


(First  Version.) 

TF  only  I have  thee, 

If  only  mine  thou  art, 

And  to  the  grave 
Thy  power  to  save 
Upholds  my  faithful  heart, — 
Naught  can  my  soul  annoy, 
Lost  in  worship,  love  and  joy. 

If  only  I have  thee, 

I gladly  all  forsake. 

To  follow  on 
Where  thou  hast  gone, 

My  pilgrim  staff  I take; 


88 


Leaving  other  men  to  stray 
In  the  bright,  broad,  crowded  way. 

If  only  I have  thee, 

If  only  thou  art  near, 

In  sweet  repose 
My  eyes  shall  close, 

Nor  death’s  dark  shadow  fear; 

And  thy  heart’s  flood  through  my  breast, 
Gently  charm  my  soul  to  rest. 

If  only  I have  thee, 

Then  all  the  world  is  mine ; 

Like  those  who  gaze 

Upon  the  rays 

That  from  the  glory  shine, 

Rapt  in  holy  thought  of  thee, 

Earth  can  have  no  gloom  for  me. 

Where  only  I have  thee, 

There  is  my  fatherland; 

For  everywhere 

The  gifts  I share 

From  thy  wide-spreading  hand; 

And  in  all  my  human  kind, 

Long-lost  brothers  dear  I find. 

From  Schaff,  “Christ  in  Song.” 


89 


(Second  Version.) 


T F only  he  is  mine — 

If  but  this  poor  heart 
Nevermore  in  grief  or  joy, 

May  from  him  depart, 

Then  farewell  to  sadness, 

All  I feel  is  love,  and  hope,  and  gladness. 

If  only  he  is  mine 
Then  from  all  below, 

Leaning  on  my  pilgrim-staff, 

Gladly  forth  I go 
From  the  crowd  who  follow 
In  the  broad,  bright  road,  their  pleasures 
false  and  hollow. 

If  only  he  is  mine, 

Then  all  else  is  given; 

Every  blessing  lifts  my  eyes 
And  my  heart  to  heaven. 

Filled  with  heavenly  love, 

Earthly  hopes  and  fears  no  longer  tempt 
to  move. 

There,  where  he  is  mine, 

Is  my  fatherland, 


90 


And  my  heritage  of  bliss, 

Daily  cometh  from  his  hand. 

Now  I find  again 

In  his  people  love  long  lost,  and  mourned 
in  vain. 

Miss  Borthwick  in  “Hymns  from  the 
Land  of  Luther”  (omitting  the  3d  stanza). 

(Third  Version.) 

IF  I have  only  him, 

* If  he  alone  is  mine, 

If  e’en  beyond  the  grave  his  faith 
My  heart  shall  not  resign, 

Of  sorrow  naught  I prove, 

Naught  feel  but  glad  devotion,  joy  and 
love. 

If  only  he  be  mine 
All  else  I gladly  leave ; 

On  pilgrim-staff  still  follow  true 
And  to  my  Master  cleave ; 

Let  others  fondly  stray 

Along  the  broad,  frequented,  flowery  way. 

If  I have  none  but  him 
Joyful  to  sleep  I go; 


91 


Ever  a sweet  restoring  stream 
His  blood  for  me  doth  flow, 

Whose  mild  compelling  might 

All  things  must  soften,  and  in  peace  unite. 

If  I have  none  but  him 
The  universe  is  mine ; 

Blest  as  a child  of  heaven  that  holds 
The  Virgin’s  veil  divine, 

Wrapt  in  sacred  thought 

No  more  by  earthly  cares  am  I distraught. 

Where  only  he  is  mine 
My  fatherland  I see, 

And  every  boon  is  on  me  poured 
As  birth-right  full  and  free: 

Long  sought-for  brothers  then 
In  his  disciples  I behold  again. 

H.  Lowe  in  “Lyra  Messianica.” 


92 


FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH. 


93 


XI. 


T TS7ENN  alle  untreu  werden, 
**  So  bleib’  ich  dir  doch  treu; 
Dass  Dankbarkeit  auf  Erden 
Nicht  ausgestorben  sei. 

Fur  mich  umfing  dich  Leiden, 
Vergingst  fur  mich  in  Schmerz; 
Drum  geb’  ich  dir  mit  Freuden 
Auf  ewig  dieses  Herz. 

Oft  muss  ich  bitter  weinen, 
Dass  du  gestorben  bist, 

Und  mancher  von  den  Deinen 
Dich  lebenslang  vergisst. 

Von  Liebe  nur  durchdrungen 
Hast  du  so  viel  gethan, 

Und  doch  bist  du  verklungen 
Und  keiner  denkt  daran. 

Du  stehst  voll  treuer  Liebe 
Noch  immer  jedem  bei, 

Und  wenn  dir  keiner  bliebe, 

So  bleibst  du  dennoch  treu. 

Die  treuste  Liebe  sieget; 

Am  Ende  fiihlt  man  sie, 

Weint  bitterlich  und  schmieget 
Sich  kindlich  an  dein  Knie. 


95 


Ich  habe  dich  empfunden; 
O lasse  nicht  von  mir; 

Lass  innig  mich  verbunden 
Auf  ewig  sein  mit  dir. 

Einst  schauen  meine  Briider 
Auch  wieder  himmelwarts 
Und  sinken  liebend  nieder, 
Und  fallen  dir  ans  Herz. 


(First  Version.) 

'T'  HOUGH  all  men  faith  had  banished, 
Still  true  I’d  prove  to  thee, 

That  gratitude  quite  vanished 
From  earth  might  never  be. 

For  me  hast  thou  borne  sorrow, 

For  me  death’s  bitter  smart; 

Then  gladly  would  I offer  up 
To  thee  one  constant  heart. 

That  thy  dear  life  should  perish 
My  burning  tears  deplore, 

While  many  thou  wouldst  cherish 
Forget  thee  evermore. 

Only  by  love’s  compulsion 
So  greatly  hast  thou  done, 


96 


Yet  art  thou  passed  from  earth  away 
And  no  one  thinks  thereon. 

With  true  love  filled,  unshaken, 

Thou  standest  each  beside; 

E’en  though  by  all  forsaken, 

Faithful  dost  thou  abide. 

The  truest  love  must  vanquish, 

Its  power  at  last  complete 

Melts  the  strong  heart  and  childlike  clings 

Submissive  at  thy  feet. 

Thee  have  I found — O never 
Leave  me  forlorn  again! 

Bound  up  in  thee  forever 
Let  my  whole  soul  remain. 

My  brethren,  too,  thy  glory 
Might  they  but  once  behold, 

Soon  would  they  turn  and  joyful  seek 
Thy  love’s  protecting  fold. 

H.  Lowe  in  “Lyra  Eucharistica.” 


(Second  Version.) 

lyiTY  faith  to  thee  I break  not, 
If  all  should  faithless  be, 


97 


That  gratitude  forsake  not 
The  world  eternally. 

For  me  sore  pains  did  wring  thee — 
Thou  died’st  in  anguish  sore; 
Therefore  with  joy  I bring  thee 
This  heart  for  evermore. 

How  oft  mine  eyes  have  streamed 
That  thou  art  dead,  and  yet 
A many  of  thy  redeemed 
Thee  all  their  life  forget! 

By  love  possessed  and  driven, 

For  us  what  hast  thou  done! 

Yet  is  thy  body  riven, 

And  no  one  thinks  thereon. 

With  love  that’s  never  shaken, 
Thou  stand’st  by  every  man; 

And  if  by  all  forsaken, 

Art  still  the  faithful  one. 

Such  love  must  win  the  wrestle ; 

At  last  they  feel,  they  see ; 

Bitterly  weep,  and  nestle 
Like  children  to  thy  knee. 

I in  my  heart  have  known  thee — 

Oh  do  not  let  me  go ! 


98 


In  my  heart’s  heart  enthrone  thee. 
Till  one  with  thee  I grow. 

My  brothers,  one  day,  will  waken, 
Look  heavenward  with  a start; 

Then  sinking  down,  love-shaken, 

Will  fall  upon  thy  heart. 

G.  Macdonald  in  “Exotics,”  1876. 


HOUGH  all  to  thee  were  faithless, 


I yet  were  true,  my  Head, 
To  show  that  love  is  deathless, 
From  earth  not  wholly  fled. 
Here  didst  thou  live  in  sadness, 
And  die  in  pain  for  me, 
Wherefore  I give  with  gladness 
My  heart  and  soul  to  thee. 

I could  weep  night  and  morning 
That  thou  hast  died,  and  yet 
So  few  will  heed  thy  warning, 
So  many  thee  forget. 

O loving  and  true-hearted, 

How  much  for  us  didst  thou! 
Yet  is  thy  fame  departed, 

And  none  regards  it  now. 


(Third  Version.) 


99 


But  still  thy  love  befriends  us, 

Of  every  heart  the  guide; 

Unfailing  help  it  lends  us, 

Though  all  had  turned  aside. 

Oh!  such  love  soon  or  later 
Must  conquer,  must  be  felt, 

Then  at  thy  feet  the  traitor 
In  bitter  tears  shall  melt. 

Lord,  I have  inly  found  thee, 

Depart  thou  not  from  me, 

But  wrap  thy  love  around  me, 

And  keep  me  close  to  thee. 

Once  too  my  brethren,  yonder 
Upgazing  where  thou  art, 

Shall  learn  thy  love  with  wonder, 

And  sink  upon  thy  heart. 

C.  Winkworth  in  “Lyra  Germanica,”  1st 
series. 


IOO 


EPIPHANY. 


101 


XII. 


TTSTO bleibst du,Trost der  ganzenWelt? 
^ * Herberg’  ist  dir  schon  langst  bestellt. 
Verlangend  sieht  ein  jedes  dich 
Und  offnet  deinem  Segen  sich. 

Geuss,  Vater,  ihn  gewaltig  aus, 

Gieb  ihn  aus  deinem  Arm  heraus: 

Nur  Unschuld,  Lieb’  und  siisse  Scham 
Hielt  ihn,  dass  er  nicht  langst  schon  kam. 

Treib’  ihn  von  dir  in  unsern  Arm. 

Dass  er  von  deinem  Hauch  noch  warm; 
In  schweren  Wolken  sammle  ihn 
Und  lass  ihn  so  hernieder  ziehn. 

In  kiihlen  Stromen  send’  ihn  her, 

In  Feuerflammen  lodre  er, 

In  Luft  und  Oel,  in  Klang  und  Thau 
Durchdring’  er  unsrer  Erde  Bau. 

So  wird  der  heil’ge  Kampf  gekampft, 

So  wird  der  Holle  Grimm  gedampft, 

Und  ewig  bliihend  geht  allhier 
Das  alte  Paradies  herfiir. 


103 


Die  Erde  regt  sich,  grunt  und  lebt; 
Des  Geistes  voll  ein  jedes  strebt 
Den  Heiland  lieblich  zu  empfahn, 

Und  beut  die  vollen  Briist’  ihm  an. 

Der  Winter  weicht;  ein  neues  Jahr 
Steht  an  der  Krippe  Hochaltar: 

Es  ist  das  erste  Jahr  der  Welt, 

Die  sich  dies  Kind  erst  selbst  bestellt. 

Die  Augen  sehn  den  Heiland  wohl, 
Und  doch  sind  sie  des  Heilands  voll; 

V on  Blumen  wird  sein  Haupt  ge- 
schmiickt, 

Aus  den’n  er  selbst  holdselig  blickt. 

Er  ist  der  Stern,  Er  ist  die  Sonn\ 

Er  ist  des  ew’gen  Lebens  Bronn; 

Aus  Kraut  und  Stein  und  Meer  und  Licht 
Schimmert  sein  kindlich  Angesicht. 

In  alien  Dingen  sein  kindlich  Thun. 
Seine  heisse  Liebe  wird  nimmer  ruhn ; 
Er  schmiegt  sich  seiner  unbewusst 
Unendlich  fest  an  jede  Brust. 


104 


Ein  Gott  fur  uns,  ein  Kind  fur  sich 
Liebt  er  uns  all  herzinniglich, 

Wird  unsre  Speis’  und  unser  Trank; 
Treusinn  ist  ihm  der  liebste  Dank. 

Das  Elend  wachst  je  mehr  und  mehr, 
Ein  diistrer  Gram  bedriickt  uns  sehr: 
Lass,  Vater,  den  Geliebten  gehn; 

Mit  uns  wirst  du  ihn  wieder  sehn. 


(English  Version.) 

T^ARTH’S  consolation,  why  so  slow?. 

Thy  inn  is  ready  long  ago ; 

Each  lifts  to  thee  his  hungering  eyes, 
And  open  to  thy  blessing  lies. 

O Father,  pour  it  forth  with  might ; 

Out  of  thine  arms,  oh!  yield  him  quite; 
Innocence  only,  love,  sweet  shame, 

Have  kept  him  that  he  never  came. 

Oh!  hurry  him  into  our  arm, 

That  he  of  thine  may  yet  breathe  warm ; 
Thick  vapors  round  the  infant  wrap, 

And  lower  him  into  our  lap. 


105 


In  rivers  cool  send  him  to  us ; 

In  flames  let  him  glow  tremulous; 

In  air  and  oil,  in  sound  and  dew, 
Resistless  pass  earth’s  framework 
through. 

So  shall  the  holy  fight  be  fought, 

So  come  the  rage  of  hell  to  naught ; 

And,  ever  blooming,  round  our  feet 
The  ancient  Paradise  we  greet. 

Earth  rouses,  breaks  in  bud  and  song; 
Full  of  the  Spirit,  all  things  long 
To  clasp  with  love  the  Saviour-guest, 
And  offer  him  the  mother’s  breast. 

The  winter  fails.  A year  new-born 
Clasps  now  the  manger’s  altar-horn ; 

’Tis  the  first  year  of  a new  earth 
Which  this  child  claims  in  right  of  birth. 

Our  eyes  they  see  the  Saviour  well, 

Yet  in  them  doth  the  Saviour  dwell; 
With  flowers  his  head  is  wreathed  about, 
From  which  himself  looks  gracious  out. 


106 


He  is  the  star;  he  is  the  sun; 

Life’s  well  that  evermore  will  run; 

From  herb  and  stone,  light,  sea’s  expanse, 
Glimmers  his  childish  countenance. 

In  every  act  his  childish  zest, 

His  ardent  love  will  never  rest ; 

He  nestles,  with  unconscious  art, 

Divinely  fast  to  every  heart. 

To  us  a God,  to  himself  a child, 

He  loves  us  all,  self-undefiled ; 

Becomes  our  drink,  becomes  our  food — 
His  dearest  thanks,  to  love  the  good. 

Our  misery  grows  yet  more  and  more ; 

A gloomy  grief  afflicts  us  sore: 

Keep  him  no  longer,  Father,  thus; 

He  will  come  home  again  with  us. 

G.  Macdonald. 


107 


THE  EUCHARIST. 


10$ 


HYMNE. 

TTS7ENIGE  wissen 

Das  Geheimniss  der  Liebe, 

Fiihlen  Unersattlichkeit 
Und  ewigen  Durst. 

Des  Abendmahls 

Gottliche  Bedeutung 

1st  den  irdischen  Sinnen  Rathsel; 

Aber  wer  jemals 

Von  heissen,  geliebten  Lippen 

Athem  des  Lebens  sog, 

Wem  heilige  Glut 

In  zitternden  Wellen  das  Herz  schmolz, 
Wem  das  Auge  aufging, 

Dass  er  des  Himmels 
Unergriindliche  Tiefe  mass, 

Wird  essen  von  Seinem  Leibe 
Und  trinken  von  Seinem  Blute 
Ewiglich. 

Wer  hat  des  irdischen  Leibes 
Hohen  Sinn  errathen? 

Wer  kann  sagen, 

Dass  er  das  Blut  versteht? 

Einst  ist  alles  Leib, 

Ein  Leib, 

In  himmlischem  Blute 
Schwimmt  das  selige  Paar. — 


II  I 


O dass  das  Weltmeer 
Schon  errothete, 

Und  in  duftiges  Fleisch 
Aufquolle  der  Fels! 

Nie  endet  das  siisse  Mahl, 

Nie  sattigt  die  Liebe  sich; 

Nicht  innig,  nicht  eigen  genug 
Kann  sie  haben  den  Geliebten. 
Von  immer  zarteren  Lippen 
Verwandelt  wird  das  Genossene 
Inniglicher  und  naher. 

Heissere  Wollust 
Durchbebt  die  Seele, 

Durstiger  und  hungriger 
Wird  das  Herz, 

Und  so  wahret  der  Liebe  Genuss 
Von  Ewigkeit  zu  Ewigkeit. 
Hatten  die  Niichternen 
Einmal  gekostet, 

Alles  verliessen  sie, 

Und  setzten  sich  zu  uns 
An  den  Tisch  der  Sehnsucht, 

Der  nie  leer  wird. 

Sie  erkennten  der  Liebe 
Unendliche  Fiille, 

Und  priesen  die  Nahrung 
Von  Leib  und  Blut. 


I 12 


(English  Version.) 

TTEW  are  there  who  know 
The  mystery  of  loving, 

Who  feel  insatiableness 
And  eternal  thirst. 

The  eucharist 

Has  divine  significance, 

But  to  earthly  senses  all  an  enigma. 

Yet  who  once  ever 

From  dear  lips  warm  and  beloved, 

Hath  drawn  life’s  own  breathing; 

Who  hath  felt  heart-glow 

Of  holy  feeling  in  trembling  thrills ; 

Who  hath  opened  his  eyes 

To  measure  the  heavens’ 

Unfathomable  depths  above, 

Such  one  will  eat  of  his  body, 

And  will  drink  of  his  blood  likewise, 
Evermore. 

Who  has  yet  found  the  high  meaning 
Of  the  earthly  body? 

Who  can  yet  say 
He  understands  the  blood? 

All  body  is  one; 

But  one 

In  the  blood  heavenly, 

Swims  the  most  blessed  pair. 


O that  the  world-sea 
Were  reddening  now, 

And  into  fragrant  flesh 
Would  burst  forth  the  rock! 

Ne’er  endeth  the  meal  so  sweet, 

Never  is  love  satiated; 

Ne’er  inward  nor  its  own  enough, 

Can  it  possess  the  beloved. 

By  lips  that  are  aye  tenderer, 

Becomes  transformed  what  is  enjoyed, 
More  inwardly  and  closely. 

Warmer  the  pleasure 
That  thrills  the  soul  through; 

Thirstier  and  hungrier 
Grows  the  heart: 

And  so  lasteth  love’s  sweet  enjoyment, 
Eternal  to  eternity. 

If  the  prudent  had  once, 

But  once  tasted  it, 

They  would  leave  everything, 

And  would  sit  down  with  us 
Yearning  at  the  table, 

Which  ne’er  is  drawn. 

They  would  know  then  the  fulness 
Of  infinite  loving, 

Would  praise  the  nourishing 
Body  and  blood. 


W.  Hastie. 


